


now i lay me down to sleep

by MistressKat



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Ficlet, Gen, Prompt Fill, Psychological Horror, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22739707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: Gerard smiles in his sleep. Radiant and terrible.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6
Collections: Scribblers' 100 Fandoms Challenge





	now i lay me down to sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dishonestdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dishonestdreams/gifts), [pushkin666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/gifts).



> I have been blessed with fluffy feels from the two notorious dark fic writers in my life. In exchange I promised them something dark and twisted. 'Nightmares and MCR' was the prompt, and the results are... More extremely weird than anything else I think.

He falls asleep between one breath and the first. The curtain rips and Gerard falls through, weightless. The air is sweet as honey, thick and golden, running in rivulets over his skin, down his throat. 

It’s a dream; the air, the grass under his feet, the trees reaching out to embrace him, all of it a dream.

Gerard loves it. 

*** 

Mikey can’t breathe. His lungs expand, mouth gaping open, but nothing happens. Cold sweat springs up and his heart flutters like a moth above a candle flame, about to burn out. He knows he’s going to die, just before he wakes up. 

*** 

“You look like shit,” Frank says. 

Mikey blinks. “Speak for yourself. Have you looked in the mirror lately?” 

Frank has not. He doesn’t like who looks back. “Not sleeping so well,” he says. The problem is that he’s sleeping a lot. 

The Frank in the mirror, however, is not. 

*** 

It rains glass. Tiny shards like diamonds and Gerard feels each as they bury themselves under his skin and make him shine. When he laughs it sounds like a song, like the last song he’ll ever sing. 

*** 

Ray’s fingers are bleeding. They haven’t done that for years. 

The strings are slippery. Ruined. He can’t remember the chords. 

When he puts the guitar away, the case snaps shut like a coffin lid. 

*** 

It’s a relief; having a dry mouth but not wanting a drop of drink. 

Gerard sits in the desert, still and coiled like a snake under the relentless midday heat. He thinks he’ll wake up when the sun goes down. He thinks it never will. 

*** 

Everyone is touching him. Not on purpose, not because they want something from him or because they want him. Just the opposite.

Bob can feel the scream in his chest, pushing his tongue out of the way. But when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. 

Someone walks right through him. 

*** 

Gerard smiles in his sleep. Radiant and terrible. 

“I can’t wake him,” Mikey says. He knows he’s scared, panicking even, but only in a way you recognise emotions in a film; familiar but not yours. 

Ray reaches out to pinch Gerard’s arm. His fingers come away bloody but there is no mark on Gerard’s skin.

“We’re just… We’re so tired,” Frank whispers. He’s curled next to the bunk, arms wrapped around his knees. 

Mikey nods, automatic, even though he doesn’t think Frank’s ‘we’ means him and the rest of the band. 

Bob slides down to the floor, his back to the door. He hasn’t said anything for… days. It’s difficult to remember.

When Mikey’s knees hit the floor, it’s covered in sand. More pours down from Gerard’s bed, from the corners of his eyes, as if someone had broken an hourglass inside him. 

*** 

The stage is waiting; houselights down, cables hissing in welcome. Gerard walks to the mic and wraps his hand around the bone stand. 

At his back he can feel the others take their places. They are all ready now. The show can start.

With the finality of birth, Gerard hits the opening note between one breath. 

And the last. 


End file.
